A whore from Whore island
My first column for On Tap will actually be birthed next week. I wasn’t exactly sure which tact to tack to and went in lots of different directions before settling on something awesome…talking about myself. I have lots of ideas for the next few months though. Some interviews and reviews in mind. One thing I want to do is have a very frank interview over drinks with someone that I truly honestly hate and would like to see dead. That could be cool. I also think I’ll interview myself as I know that will be spot on terrific.
In other news…
Lately in the casa de magnifico (aside from repeated viewings of Anchorman on HBO) we have had a lot of discussions with the elder offspring about the value of honesty and the problems that lying can bring down up one’s head. It's not that my wee lass has issues of any sort with it, this sort of value system teaching is just a central theme of parenting. Good parenting involves teaching your children to always tell the truth after you have consistently lied to them since birth about everything from Santa Claus to why that one cousin is always falling asleep at Thanksgiving dinner and crashing his car into the mailbox. It's just the right thing to do, (as Wilford Brimley once famously declared about eating Oatmeal). We do have to keep the future therapists in appointments after all.
Lying is a biological human characteristic as much as flight or fight or drunk dialing after drinking Jose Cuervo, it just happens. Why? Who knows? The ramifications are almost always worse from the lie than the event being lied about. Sure there are exceptions, I mean if you’re some lawn mowing duder with a wife and kids who happens to be giving BJ’s at the local rest stop after work maybe it’s better to let the fantasy of the work happy hour perpetrate. I don’t know about that particular situation but I bet there are a few mid-level White House officials who have an informed opinion on which way to spin it. But for the most part telling the truth wins out over not for all parties involved. I speak from experience as I was a horrendous teller of tales as a kid and a teenager and consistently found my nuts in the wringer as a result. It only took me about twenty years to figure out that it wasn’t worth the trouble. Lying, especially after cocktails, is way too hard to manage down the road. At least with the truth you have the story straight as sad, twisted, boring or magnificent as it may be.
Anyway as I was chatting with the family about this stuff and being super parent of the millennium I thought about a situation where someone sorta slandered, busted my balls, lied about me from last week. Y’see there’s a band around town that works really hard to get done what they need to get done to get where they want to go and they generate a lot of commentary in the process, mostly good but sometimes not so much. That comes with the territory and as they say any press is good press…..but is it really? Not surprisingly to any of you I’m sure I’m not really focused on them as much as me and my peripheral involvement in their business. Check this out……………
http://www.dcist.com/archives/2006/01/06/full_minute_of_mercury_iota.php#more
Great review and the reviewer is obviously a big fan and thumbs up for the band. That should be it right? No reason for me to have anything to do with it at all other than read it and think, “Good job, local music getting press is good, I need to get my picture in the paper, what’s for lunch, damn my hair looks good today” and the rest of the usual thoughts I have when perusing the internets. But if you scroll through the comments you’ll see a reference to me (despite my imposing presence Lilliputian really could only refer to me…..no matter how tall and commanding I appear when I enter a room) from a whore from Whore island (thank you Ron Burgundy) calling her/him self Jen in response to a not so positive comment left by another anonymous soul calling him/herself Rob Styles:
“Of course "Rob Styles" is in a band (probably that two-faced lilliputian from the pharmacy prophets or some other irrelevant local band).”
What the fuck is that? For the record I am not Rob Styles and even if I wanted to say something about the show I couldn’t as I wasn’t there. So Jen the whore from Whore Island is a fucking liar but he/she/tranny can lie without consequence due to the beat into the ground conundrum of faceless shitheads talking shit on the internet. How do I reconcile this with my awesome parental teachings about the value of honesty and the absolute certainty of consequence for telling fibs? That’s something I’m still working on. I mean if there’s any semblance of karmic justice Jen (whore) will get shot in her/his wretched genitalia by a pistol wielding Killers fan who got slipped some Ketamine in his P.B.R. and flipped out in rage and despair when BedHead stopped producing his much-loved hair goop (for that greasy slept in the trash bin look) or some shit but I really can’t count on that. Posting denials as I did is lame and just validates their bullshit. What to do what to do? Sure I’m reading too much into it as Jen the whore from whore island didn’t come out and say I was this Rob Styles as much as imply that it probably was me but still…….
That is not the kind of reverent adulation that I deserve from you people.
Maybe I can drop a note to the NSA telling them that this Jen is actually sending coded messages to Bin Laden and have her shot in the face by a sniper. Hmmm, that could work, (in a very scary way it probably WOULD actually work). Or maybe I should just look at it in a different light and think that of all the bands in town, all of the hipster dorks and metal freaks and shaggy haired mopers with band names like September’s Withered Ovary this whore from Whore Island found my band just relevant enough to talk shit about it.
Nah.
I still want that whore dead.
I have to go now, I'm having lunch in Pleasure Town.
In other news…
Lately in the casa de magnifico (aside from repeated viewings of Anchorman on HBO) we have had a lot of discussions with the elder offspring about the value of honesty and the problems that lying can bring down up one’s head. It's not that my wee lass has issues of any sort with it, this sort of value system teaching is just a central theme of parenting. Good parenting involves teaching your children to always tell the truth after you have consistently lied to them since birth about everything from Santa Claus to why that one cousin is always falling asleep at Thanksgiving dinner and crashing his car into the mailbox. It's just the right thing to do, (as Wilford Brimley once famously declared about eating Oatmeal). We do have to keep the future therapists in appointments after all.
Lying is a biological human characteristic as much as flight or fight or drunk dialing after drinking Jose Cuervo, it just happens. Why? Who knows? The ramifications are almost always worse from the lie than the event being lied about. Sure there are exceptions, I mean if you’re some lawn mowing duder with a wife and kids who happens to be giving BJ’s at the local rest stop after work maybe it’s better to let the fantasy of the work happy hour perpetrate. I don’t know about that particular situation but I bet there are a few mid-level White House officials who have an informed opinion on which way to spin it. But for the most part telling the truth wins out over not for all parties involved. I speak from experience as I was a horrendous teller of tales as a kid and a teenager and consistently found my nuts in the wringer as a result. It only took me about twenty years to figure out that it wasn’t worth the trouble. Lying, especially after cocktails, is way too hard to manage down the road. At least with the truth you have the story straight as sad, twisted, boring or magnificent as it may be.
Anyway as I was chatting with the family about this stuff and being super parent of the millennium I thought about a situation where someone sorta slandered, busted my balls, lied about me from last week. Y’see there’s a band around town that works really hard to get done what they need to get done to get where they want to go and they generate a lot of commentary in the process, mostly good but sometimes not so much. That comes with the territory and as they say any press is good press…..but is it really? Not surprisingly to any of you I’m sure I’m not really focused on them as much as me and my peripheral involvement in their business. Check this out……………
http://www.dcist.com/archives/2006/01/06/full_minute_of_mercury_iota.php#more
Great review and the reviewer is obviously a big fan and thumbs up for the band. That should be it right? No reason for me to have anything to do with it at all other than read it and think, “Good job, local music getting press is good, I need to get my picture in the paper, what’s for lunch, damn my hair looks good today” and the rest of the usual thoughts I have when perusing the internets. But if you scroll through the comments you’ll see a reference to me (despite my imposing presence Lilliputian really could only refer to me…..no matter how tall and commanding I appear when I enter a room) from a whore from Whore island (thank you Ron Burgundy) calling her/him self Jen in response to a not so positive comment left by another anonymous soul calling him/herself Rob Styles:
“Of course "Rob Styles" is in a band (probably that two-faced lilliputian from the pharmacy prophets or some other irrelevant local band).”
What the fuck is that? For the record I am not Rob Styles and even if I wanted to say something about the show I couldn’t as I wasn’t there. So Jen the whore from Whore Island is a fucking liar but he/she/tranny can lie without consequence due to the beat into the ground conundrum of faceless shitheads talking shit on the internet. How do I reconcile this with my awesome parental teachings about the value of honesty and the absolute certainty of consequence for telling fibs? That’s something I’m still working on. I mean if there’s any semblance of karmic justice Jen (whore) will get shot in her/his wretched genitalia by a pistol wielding Killers fan who got slipped some Ketamine in his P.B.R. and flipped out in rage and despair when BedHead stopped producing his much-loved hair goop (for that greasy slept in the trash bin look) or some shit but I really can’t count on that. Posting denials as I did is lame and just validates their bullshit. What to do what to do? Sure I’m reading too much into it as Jen the whore from whore island didn’t come out and say I was this Rob Styles as much as imply that it probably was me but still…….
That is not the kind of reverent adulation that I deserve from you people.
Maybe I can drop a note to the NSA telling them that this Jen is actually sending coded messages to Bin Laden and have her shot in the face by a sniper. Hmmm, that could work, (in a very scary way it probably WOULD actually work). Or maybe I should just look at it in a different light and think that of all the bands in town, all of the hipster dorks and metal freaks and shaggy haired mopers with band names like September’s Withered Ovary this whore from Whore Island found my band just relevant enough to talk shit about it.
Nah.
I still want that whore dead.
I have to go now, I'm having lunch in Pleasure Town.
posted by Castor OiL at
10:01 AM
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